Chanced
by charmedunderharry'sspell
Summary: What happens when you die? What happens when you are betrayed? What happens when you stand back and do nothing? What happens when you can't come to terms with the past? Then what happens when you are given another chance to make your choice?
1. Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: I am making no money out of this, it's just entertainment. All the characters you recognise are from JKR's wonderful world, the ones you don't recognise belong to me.

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White blinding light surrounded him, groaning, he rolled over on to his back and wiped the perspiration that had gathered in beads on his forehead with the sleeve of his robe. His eyes were starting to come into focus but all he could see was himself, covered in dirt and blood, in a white mist, and nothing else, just pure nothingness. He struggled to get himself up into a sitting position, straining his ears to listen to a soft tune, one that he vaguely remembered, that he could now hear resounding all around him, through the whiteness, but where was it coming from?

"Hello, can anyone hear me?" he uttered at first in a deep, strong but very calm voice. Then went he didn't get a reply, he started to get annoyed. "Why am I here?" And finally a feeble "Where is here?"

The boy moved slowly to a standing position, feeling the bruises under his robes and the grazes scattered across his pale skin. Carefully he brushed all dirt off his robes, then straightened them and finally unrolled his sleeves. As a last thought the boy ran his fingers through his messy dark hair, trying to smooth it down, and followed it by patting his pockets gently. Well gently at first, but then his hands began to work more furiously, and as his hands shook, he was getting more and more aggravated. That is when he first realised something was seriously wrong.

"Where's my wand?" He shouted, frantically looking around, but it was no use, all he could see was the same whiteness all around him. He closed his eyes, concentrated with all his might and wordlessly thought, _Accio Wand_. But nothing happened. The boy started to wander around, walking in one direction and then the next. He didn't make any progress, all he found was more nothingness, and he was starting to get frustrated and was becoming dizzy with all the energy it was just taking him to stand up. By now he was getting very angry. Normally his magic would have responded to him but wherever he was, magic didn't seem to...work.

"You're in a place I like to call limbo," a serene voice in the distant said. Blinding white light startled the boy and he collapsed to the ground, his arms weakly thrown in front of his eyes to protect them from the brightness. It didn't work, pain coursed through his head. After what seemed like hours he was finally able to drop his hands back to his sides and what he saw startled him.

A women was standing in front of him a little way away from him, talking in a very smooth voice that seemed to compliment the soft tune that was still sounding, but just a little quieter. She continued "Others call it purgatory, the 'tween place, it has many different names in many different languages and cultures. But I like to call it 'limbo'. And your magic won't work here either, so therefore there is no point in having your wand."

The women wearing a bright white robe trimmed with gold was standing in front of him, at glance he thought she was around twenty years old, and she had long wavy brown hair with red and pink roses entwined into strands. Her eyes were the same chocolate brown as her hair, and little brown freckles dusted her dark olive skin. She was a little shorter than the boy but they way she held herself and the confidence and power radiating from made her appear ten feet tall.

"You don't recognise me do you?" the girl inquired. "No matter, you will do soon enough." she added with a sly grin.

The boy began to ask, "how did I..."

"Get here? Well, I think it's a very confusing concept but pure and simply, you died. And I'm here to try and help you move on." The girl replied carefully. "Little good it will do, but I promised them."

"I did NOT die! It's impossible, you're lying!" The boy screeched, pulling himself up with what little energy he had, and ran at the girl, his robes bellowing between his legs and quickly tightening his hands round her throat. Blood rushed through his body and pounded in his ears; suddenly it was deathly quiet and very cool. Under his long fingers her dark skin felt warm and smooth, while his hands were cold and clammy, causing the girl to wince and her eyes to narrow but strangely not to choke, gag or gasp for air.

But before he knew it his hands were grabbing nothing, the girl had vanished. The boy turned around and suddenly she was in front of him. With a quick swish off her hand she sent him flying backwards, and she no longer appeared serene. There was a fierce look on her face and as he stumbled to the ground exhausted, she frowned.

The girl rubbed her throat and adjusted her hair that had been slightly mussed, the next time she spoke her voice was full of gravity and venom, "I wouldn't try that again, if I were you. You know I'm telling the truth. Tom Riddle, you finally died." Her tone eluded bitterness and her words where laced with spite as she delivered the sentence she he knew he had been dreading and fearful to hear all his life.

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	2. Chapter 2

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Disclaimer: I am making no money out of this, it's just entertainment. All the characters you recognise are from JKR's wonderful world, the ones you don't recognise belong to me.

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"I refuse to believe it." She gave him a look that said 'typical' and he asked, "Why do I look like this? Why do I look eighteen?" 

She replied ever so matter of factly, "Because Lord Voldemort is dead, and he was never human. Only humans can be in limbo and as much as you hate it Tom Riddle was human, with all those human weaknesses." She was back to smiling now. "You appear as your eighteen year old self because that is when Tom Riddle was taken over by hate and became Voldemort. Really it should have happened when you killed your helpless family and then even when you murdered poor Myrtle with your Basilisk, but there was one thing that kept you human for a while, love."

"Love? I don't think so, I was never in love and nobody ever loved me." Tom said with disgust.

"You and I know that's both not true. You loved me once, just as much as I loved you. But you couldn't handle loving me and being 'Lord Voldemort' at the same time so you took the easy option and killed me, ultimately killing Tom Riddle. I expect Dumbledore was most disappointed when he found out, he always thought love could conquer all. I just guess I was never enough for you." For the first time she looked sad.

"Petra?" Tom asked incredulously.

"Remember me now?" She was looking and sounding more confident every second. "I have to say my death didn't hurt as much as yours looked. But then I knew mine was coming, I always thought your arrogance would be your downfall; and I was right, as usual." Tom raised his eyebrows. "Don't look at me like that, I always knew you would have to kill me if you were ever to become the Dark Lord that you so badly wanted to be. I could have hidden of course, but that wasn't my style. Must be the Gryffindor courage in me, eh?"

"You could have joined me you know, you were very powerful, we could have been great together." Tom responded.

"I don't think so. I could have never of killed all those people. And anyway you never gave me that option back then. You wanted to keep me pure and whole, which you did, although not in quite the most appropriate way." Petra followed up.

And in that moment Tom Riddle looked uncomfortable, "I….You're wrong."

"Oh Tom, it's really time to stop this, stop pretending and starting remembering." Petra beckoned him. "And it's time I did the job that was entrusted to me." she added.

_Earlier_

Petra Osanna was watching, just like every other witch and wizard in the Afterlife was, for today was the day they had all been waiting for. She was one of the few that watched regularly, not just because she missed her life on earth, but because she was naturally curious, and for her it was vitally important she did not miss a thing.

These past seventeen years Petra had watched a certain boy plenty of times, his name was Harry Potter and he was about to defeat the greatest dark wizard the world had ever seen. She watched Harry, willing him on to victory to rid the world of Lord Voldemort, who had changed so much from the Tom Riddle she loved. Back then she was very naïve, her love for Tom blinded her, she had died because of it and she couldn't help but feel responsible for the way he had turned out. That was sixty two years ago, and for all of those years she had worried, watched with pain and guilt at the suffering he had caused. But Harry gave her hope, he made her believe that love could conquer all, something that she had tried to install in Tom, but to no avail.

So she watched from her world, her special place that mirrored her suite, in her parent's Jordanian retreat. From her bed, draped in fine golden fabrics, she watched the scene that was unfolding at Hogwarts, her Hogwarts. It was the place she had become enchanted with from the moment to stepped into it.

She braided fragrant roses into her long brown hair ever so carefully as she watched. If she was alive her arm would be aching, at least that was one upside to being dead. A quick glance in the mirror told her she was done, but she was surprised to see tears trickling down her exactly nineteen year old cheeks. All spirits in the Afterlife remained the same age as they did when they died. And Petra Osanna died on her nineteenth birthday.

"Petra, don't blame yourself." A wise voice said.

Petra spun round, "Professor Dumbledore!" she said quickly drying her eyes.

"Petra it's not your fault, only Tom's, he made his choices." He replied calmly.

"Yes, he made his choices. He didn't choose me, I wasn't enough." Petra exasperated. "He killed his family, he killed Myrtle, he created those awful Horcruxes and still I stayed with him."

"It takes a lot of strength to love someone who has done awful things, Petra, you did that, and who knows maybe in another life, he chose you instead of becoming Voldemort. Maybe somewhere else you saved him." Dumbledore said.

Petra gave a weak smile, "I hope you're right, Tom never deserved the life he was given, he could have been good, maybe if I had tried more or asked for help, everything could have been different. It's really time I stopped being angry and moved on." She laughed and then frowned, "I don't think I can, after sixty years I'm still filled with bitterness about what he did, but I really wish I could change."

"Good, I'm glad you feel that way because I need your help, there is something I must ask you to do." Dumbledore now looked serious. "When Voldemort dies, Tom Riddle is going to be stuck."

"Stuck?" Petra looked uncertain.

"In between heaven and hell so to speak, and he has one last choice to make that decides what happens to him," Dumbledore replied.

"He should go to hell, he deserves it for all the pain he has caused people. He made his choice, and now he has to deal with the consequences." Petra shouted, her voice now raised.

"That may be your opinion but he is granted a choice nevertheless. And to make that choice he needs to look into himself, with the help of a messenger." Dumbledore responded.

"Oh ho, not me, no way. I won't do it." Petra fumed.

"There is no one else, Petra. We have agreed that it should be you." Dumbledore sternly answered.

"Who is 'we'?" Dumbledore just smiled. "Fine, I will do it. Just show me what to do." Petra relented.

Dumbledore nodded and continued talking, telling Petra what her role as Tom Riddle's messenger would entail. Finally, Dumbledore sent Petra to wait in Limbo for when Tom would arrive. "Good luck Petra," He whispered. "It's time for you to save Tom Riddle and yourself."

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Author's Note: Okay, I thought I would be strong and not plead for you reviews, but I need to know what you guys think, even if it's just a quick "I like" or "I don't like". 

Thanks

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I am making no money out of this, it's just entertainment. All the characters you recognise are from JKR's wonderful world, the ones you don't recognise belong to me.

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"You're going to have to take my hand Tom," Petra said through gritted teeth.

Tom looked at her grimly, hate coursing through his body, "I don't right so."

"Can't bear to touch my blood traitor Gryffindor skin, is that your problem? Well sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it won't work any other way. And anyway you never used to have a problem with touching me." Petra looked disgusted.

She held out her hand, but Tom stood deadly still. "I can always make you, your magic might not work, but mine does, you got to experience just a tad of it earlier." She whispered angrily, Tom just looked at her. "Don't you dare make me abuse my powers you son of a bitch, just take my bloody hand!"

"Fine," Tom relented and placed his hand in Petra's, while she enclosed it in her fingers. With her other arm, she raised her hand. "Where are we going?" He asked.

"Just for a little trip down memory lane," Petra replied, and clicked her fingers.

Suddenly everything went black and Tom felt a sensation that reminded him of apparation, the same feeling of being sucked through a tight tube, but it was slightly different. He could see and hear different people talking, but they flashed past him before he had time to focus on one. The next thing he knew his feet slammed into the ground, and he began to wobble. However, Petra had a firm grip on his hand and she yanked him up so he was able to regain his balance.

Tom looked up and what he saw startled him, it was Hogwarts. The History of Magic classroom to be precise, as Professor Binns was sat at the front of the class and he was reading from a large book. "Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain - by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution." his gravely voice droned on.

When he tore his eyes away from Binns he noticed that Petra had begun to wander in between the students, some asleep, some with glazed looks over their eyes and a few scribbling down notes. He watched as she wound in between desks, her white robes flowing as she moved. Finally she came to a stop in front of a small girl with brown hair that had been loosely pilled on top of her head and tied with a gold ribbon. Petra crouched down in front of the small girl and lent against the desk, resting her arm against the top and looked carefully at what the girl was writing. Her eyes started to twinkle and a small smile dancing across her lips. It was then Tom realised that Petra was looking at her younger self.

Quickly he drew his eyes from them and scanned the room, sure enough, three rows back and four seats to the left sat himself. He was scribbling down the notes faster than anyone, eyes darting quickly from his parchment to the teacher and back again. After a quick glance at the notes Tom remembered this lesson. It was the one in which he first believed himself to be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, and where his obsession of finding the Chamber of Secrets began.

"It was also the day we first met," Petra said, as she appeared next to him.

"You can read my mind can't you?" Tom said, looking deep into Petra's eyes. "You were never a Legimens when you were alive."

"No I wasn't, you never gave me a chance to be. It's not Legimency I'm using, being able to hear your thoughts helps me do my job, helps me to decide where next to go." Petra conversed.

"And what job is that?" Tom inquired.

"Don't you listen anymore. I told you that you needed to remember, and that is what you are doing." Petra finished and then gestured back to Professor Binns as he concluded the class.

The students were quickly packing up their things, from the way they were acting it seemed that everyone would be heading down to the great hall for lunch. Young Petra, however, was having trouble fitting her books into her bag. Young Tom on the other hand was very quick to tidy up and as his classmates made their way out the class, he approached Binns at the front.

"Excuse me, Professor?" Tom sweetly answered and Professor Binns looked up. The real Petra faked gagging at his tone. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything more on the founders?"

"I'm afraid I can't. Riddle, isn't it?" Binns coughed back, Tom nodded. "There are many theories, none have been proved of course but I believe there are some very old books in the Restricted Section of the library."

"That's a shame," Tom said crestfallen, "It's just I won't be able to get in there without a teacher's signature, and I had enjoyed your lesson so, it really intrigued me and I couldn't think of anything more exciting than to find out more."

"Well I suppose I could always give you permission, I'm never one to let an exceptional student's hopes of further study be stopped by some school rule that is supposed to disrupt pranksters from hurting other students." Binns said, obviously excited someone had enjoyed his lesson.

"Oh that would be very kind professor, thank you very much." Tom replied.

"Of course Ribble, sorry Riddle, I'm speak to the librarian at once and she'll be able to let you in. Now off you go to lunch." Binns shooed Tom out of the classroom.

As Tom left the classroom and Binns floated through the back wall of his classroom, Petra Osanna stood behind her desk, bag across her shoulder, finger twiddling a loose strand of hair and a huge smile plastered across her small oval face.

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Author's Note: Thanks for the review, but please sir, can I have some more? 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I am making no money out of this, it's just entertainment. All the characters you recognise are from JKR's wonderful world, the ones you don't recognise belong to me.

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"How was I able to see that?" Tom asked, turning to Petra. Her younger self had now left the room and Petra was casually leaning against one of the desks.

"You are seeing what actually happened, not some memories you could have manipulated. You have to see the truth Tom. And this is it. The Truth. So enjoy." Petra replied giving a sarcastic smile.

Tom looked at her with a frown, inwardly Petra beamed with triumph at the fact she could still 'piss off' Tom Riddle. She said "Come on, we need to go about six hours into the future." Again she held out her hand, and again Tom was reluctant to grasp hold of it.

This trip was a lot quicker and in the blink of an eye both Tom and Petra were standing in the middle of the Hogwarts library, for a while they surveyed the scene. To their left young Tom sat poring other some very old dusty books, while carefully turning their pages with his wand. The librarian paced up and down, barking at the students who were messing about and from between the shelves behind Tom, a very young Petra was lurking, trying to get a glimpse at those books.

"You were lurking?" Tom turned to Petra.

"Of course I was, when I tried to get a pass to get into the Restricted Section I was turned down. All the professors knew what my motives were, and there was no way they were going let me see those books. Then you were given permission right in front of me, there was no way I was going to let this chance pass me by." Petra said confidently. "Watch."

Young Petra quickly stepped from behind her shelf, and made her way with poise to Young Tom's table, "Excuse me," she said, "I was wondering, could I sit here? Everyone else is being very noisy, and you seem to be studying so quietly. I won't make a sound."

Young Tom looked up to Petra and said, "Well, I was hoping……"

But she quickly cut him off and sat down, "Thanks so much." From then on she took no notice of Tom or the books he was struggling to read.

After about half an hour, Tom was getting decidedly annoyed and Petra heard him whisper under his breath, "What stupid language is this?". Still focused entirely on her books Petra piped up, "Probably Latin," then acted like she had said nothing.

Tom looked up from the book, and stared at her, "What did you say?" he replied.

Petra put down her quill, shuffled her papers into piles and answered, "I said 'Probably Latin'."

Tom bit back quickly, "How do you know that?"

Petra smiled, "How don't you?" After seeing Tom frown she continued, "Well, by looking at the condition of the books, the parchment they are made out of and the type of binding used, I would say Latin or possibly Ancient Greek." Petra expanded. "These books are obviously a thousand years old, all academics around the world during that age that were able to produce tombs of this grandeur would have scribed them in either of those two languages."

Tom still looked very put out, "Well how am I supposed to read them, then?"

"Oh you won't be able to," Petra said putting it bluntly, "I, on the other hand, could."

Tom eyes widened, but he quickly regained his scowling stare, and asked nonchalantly, "You can speak Latin?"

"Of course I can, Greek, Spanish, French and Hebrew too. My father is Greek and my mother Spanish. Latin used to be the only language they could converse in. Nestor, my father, is a treasure hunter, he travels all over the world. He met my mother, Marianela, when he was in Spain trying to find enchanted Moorish goblets in the Sierra Nevada. She was a young graduate of Beauxbatons, and was working at the Spanish Ministry's Department of Transportation, they fell in love, had me and the rest they say is history. When I was younger my Grandpa, Xanthus Osanna, used to tell me stories of the origins of all the treasures my family had gathered over the years and are now stored in our villa in Jordan, I was fascinated with them. As soon as I was old enough to travel with my parents, I did and that's how I was able to pick up all the languages I know. And someday I hope to take over the family business." Petra paused and the gleam of ambition in her eyes grew strong, then she said eagerly, "So let me see then."

Tom gestured with his wand, and the book turned round to face Petra, and Petra lifted her wand off the table, pointed it at her left hand and cast a spell under her breath, then did the same with the other hand. "What did you just do?" Tom asked as he had now moved round and sat next to Petra.

"I'll be able to touch the book without damaging it in any way. That spell is very important in my father's line of work." And she flipped the books slowly back to the beginning and began to read. Pausing every now and again to relay what the Latin meant, to Tom. The book told the story of how the Hogwarts castle had been built, how the founders had started to teach their students and finally how they had died of old age. "This, of course is all myth and legend, and I don't really know how it would be of interest to you, a half blood who grew up in a Muggle orphanage."

"That is no-one's business but my own," snarled Tom.

Petra held up her hands, "Fine," she replied, "I was just curious." And she stood up to leave. "If you don't want to know what else happens then that is fine by me."

The real Petra and Tom, watched as the young Petra left the library and young Tom swear and start to pack up his bags, he then too left.

"You have such a short fuse don't you?" Petra said turning to Tom accusingly, "I was just trying to be friendly, ask about you as whenever I saw you, you were on your own. However, you had to stay distant."

"I never needed friends," Tom said.

"If you think that, you're more stupid than a flobberworm." Petra stormed.

"Why do you care what I think? Your nosiness was always irksome. You couldn't help prying into my life." Tom replied.

"I felt sorry for you, you didn't deserve to be alone, so I tried to get close to you. And what a mistake that was. I wish I never even met you!" Petra spat, and she spun round and fled the library.

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Author's Note: Thanks to everyone that reviewed, I was having a break from studying and found this chapter saved on my computer, so thought I might as well update the story.


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